


Imagine a nation in which only the king was fertile and allowed to breed.

by imagineyourepregnant



Category: Original Work
Genre: Birth Fetish, Breeding Kink, Childbirth, Hyperpregnancy, M/M, Mpreg, expansion, labor fetish, multiples pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 07:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineyourepregnant/pseuds/imagineyourepregnant





	Imagine a nation in which only the king was fertile and allowed to breed.

Imagine a nation in which only the king was fertile and allowed to breed. A young consort has been chosen from the local populace and brought into the palace. The king has taken a fancy to him, and his role is to produce heirs for the king. 

The consorts that produce the healthiest, strongest, children have higher status in the place, and there is intense competition amongst the consorts to birth as many as possible. 

A night with the king and he’s soon with child. Nine months later he births a single five pound girl. No one is impressed. 

Desperate to rise in the ranks, he hears whispers amongst the consorts of a concoction given only to the highest ranks. A secret potion available only to the favored few. 

A few trysts with the royal physician and a tiny vial is slipped beneath his pillow after a night of passion. It’s dutifully and eagerly taken, and that night with the king feels different from the start. 

He wakes satisfied and sore, careful to keep his hips elevated lest a single drop of the king’s generous seed should be lost to the sheets. Satisfaction mingles with anticipation as he caresses the fullness in his belly. 

*************************************************

The difference is nearly immediate. Within weeks he’s bulging. Glowing with the promise of life. The other consorts look on with irritation as he passes, hands constantly caressing the gentle swell.

In a few months, faster than anyone expected he’s blossomed. The fertile swell of his belly pushing out beneath his ribcage, arcing downward gracefully in his robes. His hips have widened, and he delighted in giving them a slight swing as he walked. 

He was happy. The days were filled with music and food. The best food in the kingdom to for the life within. His hips grew ample with the endless procession of pastries, fowl and fish. The nights were filled with attendants eager to serve his every desire, their hands massaging his hips and his belly and loins. 

So it went on, and week by week he only grew larger. By the fifth month, walking had become too taxing for him, and he’d been settled in one of the large bedrooms, the soft mattress of the large bed cradling his now heavy belly. He lay as attendents fuss over him, his hands drifting over the amniotic swell. He feels only a deep contentment.

Time passes quickly, and within another few weeks, the burgeoning life inside him visibly squirms under the surface. The life within has begun to quicken…

In two weeks, his stomach is twice the size it had been. the amniotic sack ballooning rapidly. His litter competes for space. If he was bulging with life, he was bursting with it now. 

A month passes. He grows ever larger. The heavy fluid swell of his midsection sinking ever deeper into the mattress. He rests his hand on the taut skin, feeling the ocean of life pulse and swell within, too pregnant to move. Attendants hover over him 24/7. 

He’s enormous now. His overtaxed womb struggles to contain the restless young straining against their confines. He goes into labor several times, months before his due date, and is sedated and given muscle relaxants to calm the contractions. Freed from the spasms, his womb relaxes and allowing for some growth each time. 

It goes on like this for months. Day in and day out, the attendents come to wash, feed, and massage him. They work quickly and professionally, oiled hands rubbing over the bulges of children in his womb, moisturizing the thinning skin. He’s fed at all waking hours of the day.

Two weeks before the due date, he’s barely holding together. Utterly immobilized by his belly and delirious from the drugs, he stares glassy eyed at the ceiling, panting and barely able to breath. 

His womb is immense, every movement within threatens to rupture the absurdly thin walls. The brood within have no room to move, and even slight moments rupture small vessels beneath his skin. 

Attendants work around the clock, carefully massaging his belly such that no one baby presses outward at one spot for too long. 

The King visits now and then, inspecting his work. He consults the astrologer and selects a auspicious day near the end of the tenth month. A day with a good stars under which his children will be born. 

The birth is a public event attended by the nobels of the kingdom. The childbed, with it’s delicate cargo is wheeled to a palace square. After months confined to his quarters, the boy barely notices the sunlight on his face.

The nobles and masses gather to view the consort, marveling at the enormity and his womb, as though viewing a particularly ripe fruit at the fair. They line up to stroke the bulges of infants beneath his skin. The boy barely notices. 

The birthing process begins. Following a round of trumpets, the head attendant reaches in and breaks his water to cheering and fanfare. There is no gush of fluid followed by relief, only a thin dribble appears from within his solidly packed abdomen. 

The womb is stretched so thin that it is unable to contract on it’s own, and try as he might, even the monumentous effort results in only a localized tensing. It doesnt help. His best effort only makes thin skin contract in one small place, causing it to painfully bulge out elsewhere like a squeezed waterballoon. 

It’s all up to the attendants who gather around him in a circle and massage together pressing simultaneously from all sides at rhythmic intervals to make the contractions his overburdened womb is unable to. 

Attendants rotate in and out, and chat to synchromize their presses, his womb bulging out beneath their hands. After hours of work, the first baby slides out. A normal seven pound boy.

The attendants cheer and congratulate but much remains to be done. The consorts is still no smaller, and beneath the thin bruised skin of his abdomen, the life within struggles impatiently.


End file.
